Softened at the Edges, Tempered with a Spine of Steel
by Starjargon
Summary: Emily Gilmore's daughter just took her grandbaby and ran away. Richard hates seeing his wife so grief- stricken, but he can't seem to pull her back to herself. One-Shot. Title from Jodi Picoult


**A/N- Beauty of the library, I have been able to watch the first season of Gilmore Girls! There is a scene where Richard is yelling at Lorelai, telling her when she took baby Rory and ran away and "treated them like lepers," her mother didn't get out of bed for a month. This is based off that quote. Due to having watched only the first season (at least in many years), it is possibly AU, as it is based solely off the information from that season. Please review- this is my first Gilmore Girls story!**

* * *

"Emily. Emily! Where are you?!"

She didn't move, hugging a stray abandoned toy tightly to her chest as she shivered in her daughter's bed.

"Emily- there you are! What the blazes are you doing in here?" he asked, looking at his forlorn wife.

"Emily, come on down and eat something." She didn't turn to him, barely acknowledged his presence.

"We'll eat when they come back home. Together. As a family." There was no fire in her voice. Only sorrowful, pitiful, utter defeat.

"Emily-"

"_Together_!" she screeched, body shuddering as she tried to hold in tears, hugging her grandbaby's toy even tighter.

He left her alone that night, allowing her to wallow in her own grief.

* * *

"Emily, it's been three days."

"Our daughter and granddaughter are out there somewhere, Richard. Probably starving and terrified and who knows where. How can I eat when I know they can't?"

"She would come home before she'd let that happen, Emily."

"You _can't know that,_ Richard! What if Rory starts crying or Lorelai forgets to feed her or change her or she gets sick and Lorelai can't get her to a hospital?"

"Your lying in bed wouldn't change that, Emily. Your empty stomach wouldn't fill theirs."

He finally coaxes a half a sandwich into her that evening.

* * *

"Emily. Please come downstairs. We could do anything you want tonight. Meet with some of our friends. Or just have a simple night in. Something to cheer you up."

"I don't want to cheer up, Richard. I want my girls back home."

"Emily," he came and put his hands on her shoulders, comforting and yet pleading, "please. At least eat dinner downstairs."

"If it's so much trouble to have it sent up here-"

"It's not," he hurried, afraid she would go on another hunger strike, "I just thought you might like to get out of this bed for once."

"What if they're in the streets, Richard?"

He just manages to persuade her to let Ruth change the sheets before she climbs back into her misery.

* * *

"Emily! Emily! The phone!"

"I'm in no mood to talk to anyone, Richard," she says glumly, hugging her pillow tighter to her.

"It's Lorelai."

She reaches out, fumbling for the nearest phone, unseeing in the darkness of the room despite it being high afternoon.

"Lorelai?! Lorelai?! How are you- how's Rory? Are you alright, are you eating enough?"

"I'm fine, Mom. Rory's fine. We're eating… fine."

"When are you coming home?" she asks, trying to reign in the desperate hope from her voice.

"Mom-"

"Your father will come get you, where are you?"

"Mom. I- I'm not going back there."

"Of course you are, don't be ridiculous."

"No, Mom. I'm not. It's time I figured things out for myself. For us. I just... I just wanted to call, and to tell you… we're going to be fine."

"_Lorelai_, I-"

"I'll talk to you later, Mom."

Her heart fell along with the receiver, the silence too loud to bear. She turned to look at the picture by her nightstand, the one she hadn't stopped staring at in nearly a month, the last photo taken of the two babies that were suddenly gone from her life. Then she fell back into the pillows wearily, pulling the blankets over her head.

* * *

"Emily?" he treaded carefully, guessing the general direction of the phone conversation from his still heartbroken, still depressed, still bedridden wife, "What did she say?"

"She doesn't want us anymore." It was quiet, and pathetic, and so unlike his fiery wife, that it managed to break even him.

Finally, for the first time in the 30 days, 12 hours, and 45 minutes since she came home to an empty house and a note, she allowed herself to sob.

He stayed with her that night, never leaving her side as they grieved.

* * *

"Emily!" He stood quickly, putting his paper down to pull out her chair. "What a wonderful surprise!"

"Hardly a surprise, Richard. This is the dining room, where people normally come for meal time. And it is meal time, is it not?" Her head was held high, chin up stubbornly, not a hair out of place, makeup perfect, outfit crisp and pressed.

"Yes," he said, a grin on his face as he pushed her chair in, delighted to see the fire returned to her eyes. Their gazes met as he laid his hand over hers, their smiles sad and small but present. She squeezed his hand back in thanks. "Yes, it most certainly is."


End file.
